


Uncomfortable

by thepouringrain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepouringrain/pseuds/thepouringrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during The Great Game. Carrying around a pink phone leads to John and Sherlock receiving a few curious stares from strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncomfortable

The café was full of burly men, some builders, others of more discreet professions that only the likes of Sherlock Holmes could figure out from a sweeping gaze across the room. 

The mobile phone lay on the table, Sherlock glancing at it every few seconds. It sat there suggestively in the pink casing that Sherlock hadn’t bothered to remove. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed… no of course he had. Perhaps he enjoyed the ostentatious nature of it, what that phone said about his previous success with the Study in Pink case. Applause. Recognition. An audience. Sure, Sherlock had acted annoyed upon reading John’s blog entry, but he had read it. John smiled at this, puzzling over Sherlock for a few moments as they sat silently, John waiting for his cooked breakfast to arrive. 

John hardly noticed the pretty red-headed waitress; instead his eye caught the smirking face of the man at the table adjacent to theirs. He was looking at the pink phone, then at Sherlock (whose hand was placed carelessly across the table, drumming his fingers impatiently against the cheap wood) and then at John himself, who had been unwittingly leaning forward staring at Sherlock in deep thought- in an attempt to keep up with whatever he was going to say next. Noticing this John frowned and, clearing his throat slightly, sat back up straight again: rigid, military and unassuming once more. 

Sherlock began to speak, and despite being absorbed back into the conversation John felt the bloke’s eyes lingering on him. He began to feel somewhat uncomfortable. He felt he probably shouldn’t be feeling like this at all, even if he and Sherlock were an ‘item’ he should have nothing to feel ashamed of, it shouldn’t harm his masculinity in any way. Shouldn’t. But the idea of being wrongly accused of anything, in this case due to the incriminating item on the table, sickened John slightly. 

He was tired of forever saying ‘no’ when asked this question, whether it was through an answering look or swiftly delivered explanation whenever they met anyone new, which had been a lot of people in these last few weeks. Sometimes he felt so exasperated he thought it would be easier if they were dating, then at least they wouldn’t have to be putting up this constant fight of contradicting everyone’s so called ‘gaydar’. 

The ringing of the phone draws John from these thoughts with a lurch, reminding him there were worse consequences from that garishly pink phone than a few awkward glances. A photograph: John quickly draws his own conclusions and although he feels a glint of pride at understanding the clue before Sherlock does, it feels strange leaving him behind for once, as though John has jumped the gun at the start of a race. Admittedly, recognizing a woman from a makeover show that he has watched a few too many times for a man of his age and profession was nothing to be particularly proud of. However, standing up and walking over to change the channel on the television, he is back on the case. It’s all he has to remember: what is of importance, as Sherlock says. Transport. Work. The essentials.


End file.
